


5 Things Spock Merely Observed; 1 Thing He Did

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-14
Updated: 2009-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the st_xi_kink prompt "Kirk is having a major problem with depression. Everyday life is a struggle for him to find the energy for, but he does it, and hides behind a happy mask. I want Spock to be the one to finally notice that not all is well with the Captain and does something to help him. Bonus points if Kirk is also self-injuring or having a problem with drugs. Major bonus points (like winning the world) if he's having a problem with both."</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Things Spock Merely Observed; 1 Thing He Did

The first anomaly to draw Spock's attention was the captain's morning routine.

Specifically, due to the combination of the proximity of the first officer's quarters to the captain's quarters, the marginal quality of soundproofing throughout the vessel, and Spock's own superior Vulcan auditory sense, he was aware that the captain hit what was colloquially referred to as a "snooze alarm" an average of nineteen times each morning.

This was illogical, as each instance added precisely seven minutes to the captain's final awakening time, thus necessitating that Kirk set his initial wake up time to approximately 2.217 hours before he actually awakened. Without the constant interruption of the alarm, the captain would likely have derived greater benefit from those 2.217 hours of sleep.

Highly illogical.

But the captain appeared for all bridge shifts, staff meetings, away parties and other obligations on time, to the best of Spock's knowledge, and on those occasions when Spock was able to observe him firsthand shortly after waking, he appeared – Spock believed the correct term was "chipper" and prepared for the day's tasks. He had no perceptible difficulty maintaining his focus, nor did he exhibit any other signs of inadequate rest.

Logically, Spock had no reason to discuss a somewhat personal topic which had no effect on the captain's work performance. As a Vulcan, he could not even lodge a complaint that his own sleep patterns were being disrupted, as Vulcans needed less sleep than humans.

So Spock said nothing about the first anomaly, but his eidetic memory meant he could not forget it, either.

The second anomaly was not a significant anomaly, except when contrasted with baseline human behavior.

Throughout their acquaintance, Spock had observed that the captain exhibited greater levels of energy, especially kinetic energy, than most humans. This was noticeable in mannerisms ranging from his typical walking pace, which was 42% faster than typical for a male human of his height, to the number of times he blinked in a minute, which was 200% of the human average in laboratory observations.

Spock had also observed that the captain's preferred methods of utilizing this energy were not what a human would term "fidgeting". The captain did not typically engage in purely nervous displays of energy; instead, he paced sedately from station to station on the bridge, but in a path that was apparently carefully chosen to require the greatest number of strides.

Certainly, when he was not on duty the captain indulged in illogical outbursts of energy, such as recreational rock climbing and bar fights, but when on the bridge he exhibited collected and calm behaviors, except in extraordinary circumstances.

For the next 4 days the ship was engaged in a routine scientific mission collecting dust and gas samples from a nebula. The circumstance was in no way extraordinary. Nevertheless, in the course of one bridge shift Spock noted the captain pacing the bridge with 63% greater frequency and 47% greater speed; jiggling his left leg at such a frequency as to cause a tremor in the deck plates perceptible by Mr. Chekov, who turned briefly around to search for the source of the palpitation; and biting the cuticle of his thumbnail frequently and intently enough to draw blood.

It was logical to conclude that the captain was exhibiting signs of restlessness; perhaps he perceived their current mission as even more 'boring' than he had asserted many of their other routine scientific missions to be? He had not yet expressed that sentiment, but it was possible he was trying to avoid hurting Spock's feelings as science officer. This possibility was logical in an illogical way, which would be typical of his interactions with the captain.

Spock did not need to research their next planned planetary visit in order to calculate the likelihood that the planet would possess either cliff faces or bars or both at 100 percent. Logically, then, the captain would soon be rid of this restlessness.

The third anomaly drew Spock's attention because it increased a negative stimulus in his own environment. The doctor started to join him and Kirk for meals with greater frequency.

From his fixation on particular conversational gambits, Spock deduced that this was because McCoy believed the nutritional value of Kirk's diet to have decreased recently, and he wished for more frequent opportunities to lecture him on the topic. Presumably, the negative effect on Spock's own meals, most of which he ate with Kirk, was only an incidental benefit, from McCoy's viewpoint.

It was only logical that McCoy had noticed this change in diet first, since as chief medical officer issues of health, fitness and diet naturally fell within his purview. However, Spock had little confidence in the doctor's logical abilities and so began to independently monitor Kirk's caloric intake, along with other important measurements of nutritional value.

At the end of 12 days of such monitoring, Spock concluded that Doctor McCoy was indeed correct in his perception; Kirk was consuming 182 percent of the calories necessary for a human male of his age, weight and height to maintain body weight. Additionally, he rarely consumed even 10 percent of the recommended daily allowance of ascorbic acid, riboflavin, or retinol, among other essential substances for the optimum functioning of the human body.

The following morning, 2.64 minutes before the Kirk's snooze alarm would begin to sound once more, Spock realized that this observation did not actually include sufficient data. In addition to the foodstuffs he consumed in the mess, Kirk had access in his quarters to a basic replicator. Doctor McCoy would not have checked the replicator logs if his observations in the mess gave him adequate reason for concern.

Spock did check the logs, because logical observations were those based on thoroughness and rigor. He immediately revised his figure on caloric intake to 267 percent. The figures for other nutritional values, however, remained close to the low baseline he had observed in the mess.

The doctor was right to be concerned, as a diet of this poor quality would have a more than minor effect on Kirk's overall health if it continued. Spock briefly considered sharing his findings from the replicator logs with McCoy, but ultimately came to the conclusion that as the doctor was already pursuing the proper course to remedy Kirk's behavior, the additional information was logically superfluous.

Logically, it was also not necessary for Spock to aid the doctor in his attempts to encourage Kirk to eat more healthily. In the past, Kirk had responded in a strongly negative manner to his attempts to explain his own vegetarian diet and the logic behind it. It was unlikely he would welcome interference from his first officer in this matter now.

Spock continued to monitor Kirk's meals, however; there was no logic in ceasing to gather data that might some day be of use.

The fourth anomaly likely drew Spock's attention long before he acknowledged it and applied logical analysis to it.

There was no logical reason to avoid making a simple factual observation: Kirk had lately taken to wearing more clothing than was his previous habit.

Spock could recall, with perfect detail as always, six separate occasions on which Kirk had admitted him into his quarters while in a state of undress. Four of these six occasions had featured Kirk gleefully intoning some variation on the phrase "Like what you see?"

The pattern of these six occasions would suggest that Spock could expect to be confronted with some expanse of Kirk's skin every 8.45 days, on average, yet no such incident had occurred in 21.85 days.

Human behavior rarely conformed to mathematical models, so this calculation was in no way decisive to establish atypicality.

It was very suggestive, however, combined with the observation that Jim had not worn shorts for his workout in the ship's gym for nearly the same extent of time, nor had he removed his shirt even during the most strenuous exercises.

A logical conclusion would be that there was something about his body Kirk wished to hide, but this conflicted with his previous behavior and Spock's perceptions of his essential character. The logical response to a conflict in evidence was to attempt to gather further relevant data to resolve the conflict. In addition, his own encyclopedic familiarity with the captain's attire and the typical absences thereof would not, he suspected, stand up to logical scrutiny.

So Spock still observed and said nothing; however, when the fifth anomaly caught his attention, this course of action became intolerable.

Jim approached his station on the bridge to ask a routine question; his hand rested briefly on a panel; Spock noticed that each of his fingernails was discolored faintly turquoise at the base.

Even as he responded to Jim's query, Spock was wondering how Jim had avoided Doctor McCoy in recent days; he must have, for if Spock knew that turquoise pigmentation of keratin tissue was a sign of extended abuse of gab vāin by humanoids, there was no doubt the chief medical officer would be equally aware.

Gab vāin was a controlled substance within the Federation; how had Jim obtained it? There was a non-zero chance that he had purchased it during shore leave; however, since it could be easily synthesized from two more common pharmaceuticals-

Jim had moved on in his circuit of the bridge. Spock determined that his attention was indeed elsewhere and then recalled to his screen the replicator logs he had previously obtained. The requisite substances appeared again and again in them, in significant quantities.

This information was alarming. Gab vāin produced sensations of calm and euphoria in humans, but gradually induced paralysis if taken habitually. Spock was also disturbed by the fact that Jim had made no attempt to conceal what he was doing. This was unlike the man who had hacked the Kobayashi Maru with apparent ease. Falsifying the replicator log would have taken him an estimated 4.93 minutes.

Spock formulated the hypothesis that Jim wanted to be caught. If so, he had now done so. He tried viewing all his previous observations with this same hypothesis in mind, and came to a very serious conclusion.

As Jim's first officer, and his friend, what should he do now?

Outside the captain's quarters that evening, Spock paused momentarily to review his thought processes and reassure himself that his decision not to involve Doctor McCoy in the issue at this juncture was adequately logical. While the doctor's expertise would be essential in treating Jim's condition, there was a significant likelihood that his presence at this initial intervention would elicit a negative reaction.

Spock was not unaware that he possessed other motivations for wishing to keep the matter to himself, for the moment, and be the only friend to offer Jim support, but as these motivations coincided with a logical course, they need not be fully examined.

When he entered Jim's quarters unannounced a moment later, Jim was kicking his replicator.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you piece of shit?" Another kick.

"I have disabled the functioning of your replicator," Spock answered, since the machinery could not.

Jim spun around to face him, startled. "What the hell, Spock? Why would you do that? And who let you in here, anyway?"

"It was necessary in order to prevent you from doing further damage to your health. And I let myself in here."

"Jesus, Spock, I just want a cup of coffee, is that alright with you? No need to overreact to the negative effects of caffeine on the human body, or whatever's got your panties in a twist."

Spock ignored the colloquialism, undoubtedly targeted to provoke or distract him. "Do not be evasive. You have been using your replicator to obtain the necessary materials to synthesize gab vāin, that is why I have disabled it and restricted your replicator access systemwide."

Jim laughed, but as amusement was not observable in his eyes Spock easily dismissed it as a false front. "You think I'm on drugs, Spock? Where the fuck did you get that idea?"

"You are exhibiting subtle characteristic physiological signs of substance use, Jim. In addition, I have accessed your replicator logs."

"Oh, so now that you've hacked my personal records, you decide we're on a first name basis," Jim retorted, another evasion of the topic that lent further confirmation to Spock's conclusions.

"How I choose to address you is irrelevant to the topic at hand, Jim. In addition to these attempts at self-medication, I have observed the following: you are not sleeping well, you are restless and physically agitated, your diet will soon lead to drastic incipient weight gain, and-" Spock paused. His last conclusion was serious enough and supported by tenuous enough evidence that it was almost mere speculation. Should he voice his concern aloud?

"And what else, Spock? Am I cutting myself like a weepy teenage girl?"

Spock's initial hypothesis had been that Jim wished to be caught at the behaviors he was engaging in. Very well. "Indeed, I believe that visual inspection of your arms, legs or torso would yield evidence of self-harming activities. Which, in point of fact, are not uniquely typical of female adolescents, but engaging in by a range of-"

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed. "Whatever, Spock. You think you've got me all figured out. Is that why Bones isn't here? Why bother with him when you've already chosen a diagnosis!"

"I cannot help but note that you have yet to outright deny the validity of any of my observations, Jim. Taken together, they form a convincing argument for the contention that you are suffering from major depressive disorder. There is a 96.7 percent likelihood that Doctor McCoy will confirm this diagnosis."

"If you're so sure about it, why the hell didn't you just go straight to Bones? Why bother talking to me about it at all? You had to know I'd only become irrational and illogical when confronted."

"I am your first officer and your friend. In both roles I had reason to be concerned for your well-being and owed you the courtesy of a personal conversation conveying these concerns."

"There's no reason for my first officer to be concerned – it's having no effect on the captain of this ship. I won't let it have an effect. Fuck, Spock, do you know how hard I'm trying to-" Jim's voice broke then, a common sign of intense emotion, and he paused.

"As for the friend thing," he continued after 15 seconds of silence, "that's a load of crap. It's not as if you care. You're not even capable of caring." Jim's words were cold, biting.

In such a situation, logic dictated patience for Jim's emotional assertions. "You need only recall your own interactions with my older self to know that is not true."

"'Vulcans do not feel blahdeefuckingblah,'" Jim parroted, voice high with anger. "If you don't feel, Spock, you can't care."

"Do not tell me that I cannot care!" Spock hissed, patience and control breaking, stunning Jim into silence. "Vulcans learn to hold our emotions at a distance; Vulcans choose not to let feelings dictate our actions. This is not the same as not having them, which you should know better than any human who still lives."

Exhausted by Jim's irrationality, Spock made his last, best, most illogical move. "My father loved my mother," he said quietly, "And I- I love you."

A moment of silence from them both seemed to loom before him like the maw of some hostile creature, and then-

And then Jim, with his head down, cradled in his hands, bent elbows supported on bent knees-

Jim began to laugh.

"It is not amusing," Spock said firmly, seriously, but calmly. He had given up enough control already.

Jim's head lifted from his hands and it was not an expression of amusement, of mockery Spock saw. It was exhaustion, it was pain.

"How can you love me, Spock? There nothing about me worth loving. There's just nothing – nothing for you to care about."

"Jim-" Logic made it clear that a human struggling with major depressive disorder could make many such statements and mean them sincerely. It was not, however, logical for others to accept them as truth.

"I don't even care about me anymore, Spock, if I ever did. Why should you?"

Spock seized on the thin wedge of hope in Jim's question, embedded in the verb 'should.' "Perhaps it is the case that, if you cannot care for your own sake, I must care on your behalf."

For an interminable 53 seconds, Jim's level gaze was entirely blank.

Then, a spark. "I-" Jim said, inchoate thought, and he reached out and Spock-

Spock took. He took Jim in his arms and he wanted to take him somewhere safe, warm, where this despair could never have found him and he wanted to take Jim's dark pain and cast it into the void of space so it could never seize him again.

He could not do these things, not easily, so as he clutched him close he drew instead on early memories of his mother. He stroked Jim's hair and whispered in his ear "Shh. It's alright now. You're alright."

Any logic in these utterances was tenuous, as Jim was already silent and he was demonstrably not 'alright' for any value of that imprecise term.

As soon as he spoke, though, Jim began to cry. He was very quiet, but Spock felt his respiration increase slightly and moisture begin to permeate his uniform top.

It should have been the most awkward moment of Spock's life. He, to give comfort with word and touch? Jim, to admit to weakness, to cry? None of the logical principles with which he was raised was in evidence in their interactions, nor had they been for quite some time.

And yet, because he loved this man, there was value in these actions.

When Jim's breathing had evened out and he could sense no new moisture reaching his skin through the fabric of his shirt, Spock began to loosen his hold on Jim.

"Don't-" Jim started, like the keen of a wild animal, then: "You shouldn't leave me alone."

"I have no intention of doing so until you are ready to see Doctor McCoy. I merely reasoned that you might now wish to talk."

"About telling Bones? Or about … everything?"

"We may converse on any topic you wish, Jim. But I admit I will be reassured if you agree to seek Doctor McCoy's help."

Jim nodded. "I've wanted to tell him, you know, but it's just so big, so much and I didn't- it's hard to let him in on a problem that feels like it can't possibly have a solution. What good can it do?"

"Established treatment options for depression have at least a moderate effect in 85.2 percent of cases, Jim."

Jim chuckled a little then, brokenly. "Not everyone finds percentages as comforting as you, Spock."

"If the doctor can help you overcome your harmful behaviors and restore even a modicum of your emotional equilibrium, Jim, then in my view he will have done all the good in the world."

"In your view?"

"Yes. I- I do not like knowing you are in pain. It appears to cause a reciprocal pain within me."

Jim looked him in the eye, reached out a hand to cup his face. "I guess you really do care."

"Evidently," Spock responded evenly, arching one eyebrow.

"Show me," Jim said, quiet but commanding. "Show me how you care."

"I-" Spock gently encircled Jim's wrist with his hand. "Do you wish me to meld with you?"

"Meld with me, hold, kiss me, fuck me – whatever you want. Just show me."

Spock wanted to engage in all of those activities with Jim, but melding should indeed come first, so that he could ascertain Jim's exact state of mind and determine whether any of the others would actually be detrimental in his current state of mind. "Very well," he said, reaching to place his fingers on the meld points, "my mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts."

When Spock had thought of doing this, which he did regularly with the justification he could certainly anticipate its necessity at some time in his service on the Enterprise, and it was only logical to be prepared, he always conceived of Jim's mind as beautiful. Now that he was here within it, he discovered that he was correct – but that it was a terrifying sort of beauty.

Darkness lurked in every crevice of Jim's mind; his sense of self, like sturdy ancient columns thrusting skyward, was encrusted with loathing like sickly black lichen. Spock tried to make his own pleasure at being with Jim into strong sunlight and his love into cleansing water.

Spock found Jim's perceptions of and feelings for him cowering in a far corner like a kicked dog. Interest, attraction, respect, admiration, love – all coated in a thick sheen of shame and certainty that he, Jim, was unworthy to feel this way for such a one.

"It is not so," Spock told him, in his mind and aloud. He'd moved closer to Jim during the meld, and the hand not touching his face was now wrapped around Jim's back. Spock edged them backwards toward the bed, pressing his lips to Jim's forehead and eyelids. "Love me, as I love you."

He had to break the meld to see to their clothing, and Jim whimpered. "Shh," he repeated. He did not look away from the injuries that were revealed as he stripped Jim bare, the ones he had predicted would be there, carefully placed to be always covered by clothing. Most were consistent with minor burns. He kissed one such mark on his torso, gently, and Jim hissed.

They were fully nude, now, and Spock restored the meld, letting his mind and thoughts gently cradle Jim's as he attempted to convey the same comforting sensations with his body on Jim's. Inside Jim's mind, the darkness was in abeyance, though still present; Jim's mouth formed little nonsensical cries and groans as they rocked against each other.

Climax came upon them, first Jim and then himself, like a hot summer wind that whipped at their skin, stirred the tangle of their melded emotions, left a bit of relief and clarity in its wake.

Spock held Jim, mind and body, and knew it was not alright, but it would be. He promised them both that.


End file.
